


just a harmless little venial sin

by Anonymous_Ostrich



Series: of Ineffable Bedrooms & Uncertain Futures [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, and not at all linear, angel/demon sexuality is weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Ostrich/pseuds/Anonymous_Ostrich
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale start coming to terms with their lingering feelings for one another, while subsequently discovering the benefits of Saying What They Really Mean.i.e. Aziraphale miracles himself a bedroom for all the wrong reasons, all of which turn into the right reasons fairly quickly.





	just a harmless little venial sin

_Ridiculous_. Absolutely silly, is what this was.

Aziraphale snapped his fingers with a sharp, almost irritated flick of his wrist. And then he paced round and round the backroom of his bookshop for a time, grumbling to himself off and on before snapping again, this time in a resigned sort of way, only to snap  _again_  a moment later with that same irritated inflection. After several moments the cycle began anew, and by this time, it would have been a miracle in of itself if his cycle of indecision hadn't garnered the attention of Heaven. **[1]**

To paraphrase, Aziraphale was miracling - and promptly unmiracling - a bedroom.

And he was agonizing over it.

Another snap, another anxious sigh, another snap and a deflated groan. He knew he could just leave the blasted bedroom alone until he decided whether or not to keep it, but something about that made Aziraphale feel prickly and warm under the collar, like he  _was_ considering keeping it around, like it's very existence on the second floor of his shop  _meant_ something. Miracling it away was like undoing it, like tapping the backspace on a keyboard until the entire silly thought was deleted forever. Hence his agony, and the liberal misuse of miracles when it would have been just as effective to snap once and decide later. Or not snap at all. **[2]**

Finally, at long last, Aziraphale ceased his endless pacing and fell into the nearest chair, his face in his hands. This was ridiculous. All because of what Crowley said? All because he…? Silly. This was nothing but silly nonsense, all things considered. If Crowley wanted a nap, surely the couch in the backroom would have sufficed, or the backseat of his brand-new-but-not-brand-new Bentley, or his own flat. Why should it matter if Aziraphale had a bedroom or not? And  _why_ \- and here was the real question, the one that Aziraphale wanted answered -  _why_ did it matter to Aziraphale that Crowley couldn't nap at his place?

 

" _Leaving so soon?"_

_"Ah, yeah. I'm exhausted, angel. Could sleep for a few months to be honest, after all that."_

" _Not a century, this time?"_

_"Probably could. Won't, though."_

_"You sure you can't stay for a while longer? Another drink, perhaps?"_

_"Naw, angel. Thanks though. Unless…. Well."_

" _What?"_

" _Forget it."_

" _Now, you can't say such vague things without finishing the thought, my dear. That's bad manners."_

_"Only kind I know."_

_"Crowley."_

" _Well, you don't have a bedroom anyway, so that's that. I prefer a bed for naps, me."_

" _Oh. Oh, ah… I see, yes. I'm sorry I'm not more accommodating."_

" _It can't be helped, you don't even sleep. What would you even need a bed for?"_

 

Aziraphale glanced at his old, antique couch. He supposed it might not be very comfortable to nap on, after all. Not that he'd ever had a nap to know what level of comfort was necessary. And  _why_  was he still thinking about this?

Furthermore, how would it appear to suddenly have a bedroom on the off chance that Crowley expressed any kind of interest in napping at his bookshop again? 'Oh funny you should mention it a second time, dear boy, the new bedroom is up the stairs and to the left. Why do I suddenly have a bedroom for the first time in 6000 years? **[3]** Why, just in case you came here looking for a place to nap, of course.' Aziraphale's head drooped.  _This was so ridiculous_. He lifted his hand, fingers poised to snap the damnable bedroom away once and for all. He hesitated.

There was something else, some other reason he was considering tacking a real bedroom onto his flat above the bookshop, and it had nothing to do with napping and it had everything to do with the look on Crowley's face when he'd suggested it. Like he wasn't really interested in napping, like he was hoping for a different kind of invitation.

That warmth crawled up Aziraphale's neck again. He snapped.

.

.

.

Lately, Aziraphale had been asking Crowley to lunch more often than usual. Crowley had very little to complain about over this fact, really, both because he enjoyed going to lunch with his friend and because the world had just recently not ended, and that made him feel a little more social than usual. And there was that nasty business with a burning bookshop and a missing angel, of course, that made Crowley just a little bit **[4]** elated to be able to spend any time with Aziraphale at all.

There was something odd, though. Aziraphale hadn't invited Crowley back to the bookshop for drinks in weeks. Although Crowley hoped it was a coincidence, he couldn't help but notice that the last time he'd come over was when he'd mentioned Aziraphale's lack of a bedroom. For napping purposes, he'd implied, and only now was he worrying that perhaps Aziraphale thought there was more to it than that.

There was, absolutely, more to it than that.

It wasn't as if he'd been expecting anything, really. Just maybe an excuse to stick around a bit longer, horizontally, in various stages of undress depending on how receptive his angel might be to getting horizontal with him. Sex wasn't something angels and demons typically had any interest in - or in the case of their respective colleagues and superiors, any knowledge of at all - and so Crowley couldn't expect that such an unobtrusive hint could have bothered Aziraphale to any extent. He doubted Aziraphale even followed along with that sort of thing. Crowley certainly wouldn't have, under different circumstances. He didn't even know what he was suggesting to  _himself_. He just thought he'd toss it out there, a harmless tendril, testing the waters or so the saying went.

On one such day - the kind of day where Aziraphale asked him out to lunch but seemed to get distant and jittery just after the check came - they'd managed to at least get outside and around the corner before Aziraphale started the awkward process of turning Crowley away before he'd even been invited.

"Well, I suppose I should be off," Aziraphale began, stopping on the sidewalk just short of Crowley's Bentley, his eyes darting every which way except for anywhere near Crowley, "I'll, uh, talk to you later, won't I?"

"Well yeah of course, but angel-"

Aziraphale seemed so absorbed in his goodbyes he didn't appear to have heard him. "Right, cheerio then, and do try to mind the speed limit getting home."

"'Cheerio'...? Listen-"

"I really do have to be going," Aziraphale said, more firmly, which might have actually worked if Crowley thought for one second Aziraphale really meant it. Aziraphale turned, tugging his waistcoat with a sniff of finality. "I'll talk to you-"

Crowley pushed in front of Aziraphale, blocking the angel's escape with his arm against the nearest wall. Aziraphale's eyes flashed to him in surprise. Crowley glared at him over the rim of his sunglasses.

"You'll talk to me  _now_ ," Crowley said. "Okay, angel. What's wrong."

"Whatever do you mean, my dear?"

" _That_ , that right there. The way you start talking when we get to be alone lately, like you're avoiding saying something else. It's  _never_  been awkward between us, not like this, and all of a sudden it's like you're trying to get rid of me."

"Get  _rid_ of you?" Aziraphale repeated, aghast. "I'm not- I don't know what you're, really, how silly, to propose that I would...? Preposterous, really, that you would even-"

It took everything in Crowley to not just press a finger to that chattering mouth, but lately looking at Aziraphale's mouth in any capacity proved to be a bad idea. " _Please_  stop talking," Crowley growled instead, sighing. "Angel, 6000 years of familiarity doesn't leave a lot of room for secrecy. You've been off for a few weeks now. You keep cutting our visits short, saying something or other about having previous engagements or whatever it is you keep going on about, bloody  _excuses_ , and you can barely even look my way.  _Tell me what's going on_."

Aziraphale went silent for a time. When finally he spoke, his voice was slow and even but his eyes were still downcast.

"I can't answer that right now, Crowley."

"Why not?"

"Because… because I can't."

Crowley drew a sharp breath in through his nose but did not release it. He gave Aziraphale another long, hard look before pushing off of the wall and turning around, starting off toward his Bentley.

"Have it your way. Ring me if you're feeling chatty."

"Crowley-"

"I can take a hint. 'Cheerio', angel, I won't keep you from your incredibly important-"

The world suddenly spun around, away, a blur of color and motion and muted sounds that Crowley had certainly experienced before but not  _recently_. It was hard - and not recommended - to move when one was being miracled from one point in space to another, so Crowley was more or less stuck with his hand extended toward the door of his car that was no longer there as color and clarity and sound returned all at once, planting him at last in the backroom of Aziraphale's bookshop. Slowly, Crowley's outstretched fingers curled back into his palm.

"-engagements."

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale was quick to say.

Crowley turned, bristling. "What happened to 'I'll talk to you later'?"

"I changed my mind!" Aziraphale answered indignantly.

"Oh, you changed your mind! Brilliant. And what, angel, made you change your mind?"

Aziraphale's face fell. He looked vaguely wounded. "I just did, I suppose. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea, or think I was…" Aziraphale cast his eyes away, almost guiltily. "...sending you away."

Crowley's vexation melted away annoyingly quick. He never enjoyed seeing Aziraphale struggle, not really, not even if he looked a little bit cute whenever he tortured himself over mundane things. This didn't feel mundane, though. Crowley sighed hugely, head falling back with the effort, eyes staring up at the ceiling. When his head dropped back into proper configuration Aziraphale was staring at him, his hands fidgeting at his waist, his brows drawn in concern. It harkened back to… well, 6000 years, if he was being honest. Though lately, since Armagetadidn'thappen anyway, Aziraphale had been a lot less reluctant in their relationship. What changed?

"Is this about…?" Crowley left it hanging there between them, hoping Aziraphale might fill in the blanks himself. When he didn't, Crowley rolled his wrist encouragingly, pretending to shake free the memories as if he didn't relive that moment at least twice a day since. "The whole…? Bandstand? Telling me to fuck off, thing?"

Aziraphale bristled. "I did  _not_ tell you to- well, I didn't phrase it  _that way_. But… yes, I suppose. Somewhat."

"Angel, that's water under the bridge. And another reality, technically. If that's what got you acting so strange, then rest assured, I know you didn't mean any of it. And even if you did- well, water under the bridge, anyway."

"It's not- it's not  _just_  that," Aziraphale turned away, hands still fidgeting, his bottom lip momentarily disappearing into his mouth to be nibbled on. Crowley watched him with a frown, waiting. When finally Aziraphale spoke again, what came out of his mouth was not at all what Crowley expected.

"A nap." he said, still not looking anywhere near Crowley. It rather looked like he was speaking to a bookshelf, actually, and it was impossible to ignore the pink that had suddenly rushed into his cheeks.

"...Come again?"

"A nap," Aziraphale repeated, a little louder this time, finally looking Crowley's way. "If you wanted to take a nap here, you should have just said so!"

Crowley's mouth fell open. He closed it again. Why, all of a sudden, did he distinctly feel like he was being reprimanded for something?

"A nap…? Are you talking about a few weeks ago when I mentioned…?"

"Quite."

"Angel, I didn't mean anything by it." That wasn't true. "I was just exhausted after everything that happened." That was true.

Disappointment flashed over Aziraphale's features for a moment, only a moment, before his chest rose and fell with a deep, even breath. He stared Crowley down with dark eyes that made Crowley feel precisely three inches tall. "Crowley, it's been 6000 years, and one thwarted apocalypse. I feel that perhaps we should consider saying what we really mean."

"This coming from the angel who's been avoiding being alone with me for  _weeks_."

"Well, I… I never claimed to be any good at it myself."

Crowley took a couple lazy steps forward, just grazing the edge of Aziraphale's personal bubble. His voice was low and vaguely desperate. "I've  _been_ saying what I mean, angel. Practically screaming it, actually, for a few hundred years."

Aziraphale's eyes softened. The tension in his shoulders visibly relaxed. "Quite right. I suppose I… I just haven't been listening."

Crowley took another step. "Maybe you just didn't want to hear what I was saying." he said, wishing he could sound a little more accusing and a little less pathetic, though he couldn't keep his voice from breaking. He hoped Aziraphale hadn't noticed. **[5]**

"For quite a while, I didn't," Aziraphale admitted, an apologetic smile shaping his lips. "But I've been thinking lately, and I'm… well, I'm ready to listen."

"Oh  _are_ you?" Crowley wasn't certain why he was getting so irate, or if he even  _was_  irate considering he felt equally certain he was scared shitless, terrified of wherever this conversation may be leading. Either way he felt a wild disconnect between his current tone and the powerful surge of desperate _hope_ and  _please don't do this to me, I don't think I can survive the rejection_ that were vibrating through his essence. "You didn't seem very keen to listen after lunch. You still haven't told me what changed."

"I couldn't watch you just walk away!" Aziraphale all but shouted. Crowley suddenly felt as though all the air in the room had been sucked out through one of the little windows behind him. He wasn't sure what to say or do other than stand there uselessly, mouth half-open as if he actually intended to reply to that, which he did not. Aziraphale noted his expression and pressed on, albeit much more gently. Emotionally, perhaps. "More specifically, I can't stand the thought of chasing you away again. All because I couldn't articulate my own thoughts, or stand up to Heaven. I don't… I don't want that for us, Crowley."

Crowley's jaw tightened. He swallowed an odd lump in his throat. "You didn't chase me away, angel. Thought I made that pretty clear when I came running back."

"I was being silly and- and stupid, so stupid, as if I could just ignore 6000 years of friendship because of some ridiculous war! And when I thought you might actually have left without me-"

Almost unconsciously, Crowley closed off the distance between them, stepping purposefully into that bubble. "I never would have gone anywhere without you, you know that."

"I  _know_  that, but that makes it worse, doesn't it? To say what I said, at a time like that… I truly do apologize, my dear, I never meant to-"

"I already said it's water under the bridge. I don't need any apology."

"But-"

Crowley extended his arms and wrapped them around Aziraphale's shoulders, pulling him in close, chest to chest. For a moment, neither of them moved. Aziraphale's arms stayed rigid at his sides, his soft breath falling hesitantly against Crowley's neck as Crowley just held him, pressed his face into Aziraphale's hair.

"I thought I bloody  _lost you_ ," Crowley's voice was hoarse near Aziraphale's ear and he was trembling, truly shaking, and when Aziraphale felt it he rose his arms to tightly fist his hands in the back of Crowley's jacket. "Since we're finally fessing things up, may as well go all in. I thought you were dead, Aziraphale, and it almost killed me. I didn't care if the world burned to a crisp. You weren't there.  _You weren't there_ , and it was the first time in my life I felt truly alone."

"My dear boy," Aziraphale's voice was a soft, sad flutter. He held Crowley tightly, pushing his forehead into Crowley's shoulder.

"And then I had you back and lost you almost as quickly. If Agnes hadn't warned us, you would have been obliterated in hellfire. I saw it, that fucking tunnel of fire that would have unmade you, and those angels, they were  _smirking_. And I wanted to rip them apart, angel. I wanted to wipe the smiles from their self-righteous faces."

"You rather did," Aziraphale offered in a gentle, consoling voice. "You gave them more of a fright than they've ever known, I'm sure, and that should be enough."

"It should, but it issssn't," Crowley let slip a hiss, his emotions beginning to betray him. "You want me to say what I mean, fine. You're everything to me. Everything." They separated just enough to see each other's faces; Aziraphale's eyes were wide as dinner plates and sentiment be damned, they had  _stars_ in them, shining so brilliantly that for once Crowley was glad he was wearing sunglasses. Crowley couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch the side of Aziraphale's face, or running the tips of his fingers through soft, pale blond hair. "And while we're on this honesty kick… I wasn't talking about napping, angel."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Aziraphale laughed breathlessly, throwing his arms around Crowley's neck, "I  _knew_ that."

'Kissing' was not something that angels or demons did, not since their creation, but both Crowley and Aziraphale had a fantastic habit of indulging in human oddities and enjoying them immensely. This was no exception. Although neither of them had ever tried it out in all their 6000 years on Earth, they came together so naturally it was almost hard to believe they hadn't kissed a thousand times before. **[6]** Crowley grabbed his sunglasses in his fist and cast them to the floor, only vaguely aware of the tell-tale cracking of glass that followed as he kissed Aziraphale like his life depended on it, pushing the angel up against the wall and planting his forearms on either side of Aziraphale's head. Aziraphale moaned a sweet little hum of approval, his hands grabbing desperately at the back of Crowley's head. Something strong and hot and  _possessive_ flew through Crowley like a strike of lightning. It took everything in him not to tear Aziraphale out of his clothes where he stood.

Aziraphale tasted like tea and a fresh spring breeze and just a hint of brandy. It was everything Crowley ever wanted but nothing he ever thought he could have, and his mind was reeling with the realization that this was real, this was happening, he was kissing Aziraphale and Aziraphale was  _kissing him back_. He might have laughed if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied.

They drew apart breathlessly, breathing hot against each other's lips. Crowley's mouth found a new favorite place on Aziraphale's neck, kissing and sucking, wedging his knee in between Aziraphale's thighs. The angel shuddered, his hands taking hold of Crowley's shoulders for balance, his eyes fluttering closed.

"My dear, let's-  _ah_ \- go to the bedroom, shall we?"

Crowley didn't need a bedroom. The way he was feeling now, they could do this on burning hot asphalt in the middle of a busy street next to an active shooting range and he wouldn't care so long as Aziraphale was into it. He grazed his teeth over Aziraphale's throat. "You don't have a bedroom."

"Uh, well," Aziraphale smiled in mock-apology, his cheeks adorably pink, "I might do, now."

Crowley pulled away to level his angel a wide-eyed stare of, well, utter disbelief, his chest rising and falling with harsh breaths. "You sure?" he managed to push out, hanging on to his very last shred of self-control. "I've wanted this for a long,  _long_ time, but I wanna make sure you want this, too. Cause if we get going, and I'm just being truthful here, I'm not sure Heaven or Hell could get me to stop." **[7]**

Aziraphale smiled at him. No, he  _beamed_. All the love in the universe shone out through his eyes and this time Crowley didn't have sunglasses to keep from being blinded by it, but that was just fine. Aziraphale held Crowley's face in his hands. "Crowley, I've never been more sure about anything."

Crowley was still clinging to that self-restraint, gripping it for dear life. "We… we don't know what this could mean, angel. An angel and a demon… well,  _fraternizing_. You could-" He had to force the next word out, hissing it like a curse, " _Fall_ , possibly, or- or worse. It's never been done, what we're about to consider doing."

A ripple of concern flew over Aziraphale's features, only for a flash, but it was enough to freeze Crowley's entire soul, every piece of him furiously regretting having mentioned it. Aziraphale must have noticed, because he pulled Crowley into another deep kiss, slotting their hips together, gripping Crowley so hard it hurt. When they broke apart again, Aziraphale's eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown open, mouth flushed red.

"'We're on our own side', you said. Did you mean that?"

"Sure did," Crowley croaked.

"Then it doesn't matter if I Fall. I might anyway, once they figure out our little switch trick. I chose my side a long time ago, and it's you."

That was that, then. Crowley bade farewell to his last precious thread of restraint and attacked Aziraphale's lips once again, his hands working to rid the angel of his jacket and then his waistcoat as they made their way awkwardly to the stairs. They staggered upward kissing and groping, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake, until a half-naked angel was being shoved up against a door by a half-naked demon, the aforementioned angel fumbling blindly for the doorknob.

The 'bedroom' Aziraphale miracled was inspired by two very important things: One, functionality. If he  _was_ going to have a bedroom despite not needing or wanting sleep, it needed to be useful on several levels. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled corner to corner with some of Aziraphale's most prized books - all the better they were being kept somewhere out of sight instead of in his shop where just anyone could catch a glimpse, after all - and a nicely sized desk sat in the corner, so that Aziraphale could read, restore or study if the need arose. He had practically the same desk downstairs, of course, but  _this_ desk offered the promise of being near to a certain demon if he were staying over, so it was Better. The room was decorated modestly but decorated nonetheless, mostly because Aziraphale thought, if he and Crowley were going to be frequenting this room for something other than drinks and philosophy, it ought not to look exactly like the rest of his bookshop.

Two, intimacy. At this point during the bedroom's creation, Aziraphale could admit to being a little fuzzy-minded and distracted by Crowley's hot mouth sucking a bruise on his neck, and so the bed was a little bigger than was strictly necessary, strong and plush. It was a four-poster with thick, cream-colored curtains on all sides, intricate angelic wings carved into the wood of the frame, complete with satin sheets and feather pillows.

Crowley wasn't looking at any of that. As soon as the door flew open and the two of them stumbled inside Crowley was navigating them to the bed like a demon on a mission, his hands sliding over Aziraphale's exposed chest, dragging his fingernails gently over the angel's pale flesh. Aziraphale groaned into his mouth, the back of his legs hitting the bed; he grabbed Crowley by the belt loops of his tight jeans and yanked him forward, landing them both on the bed, still kissing as though they were sharing each other's air. They drew apart, nose to nose, Crowley firmly pushing his knee between Aziraphale's thighs to prod his… Oh, right. Aziraphale shuddered, drawing in a tight breath.

"Does that feel good?" Crowley asked, authentically curious, giving the space between Aziraphale's legs another soft rub. "Even though there's nothing there?"

"Nothing there,  _yet_ ," Aziraphale pointed out breathlessly, though he declined to directly answer Crowley's inquiry. The shiver that visibly flew through him was answer enough. "So… Which would you, erm, prefer?" Aziraphale breathed, his cheeks dusted deep rose. "I admit, I've never given it much thought as to which I might choose if I, uh, had to choose."

"I prefer you," Crowley was quick to answer. "Whatever feels most you."

Aziraphale's eyes went round again, soft, and he pulled Crowley into another kiss, desperate and messy. Crowley swung his leg over Aziraphale's waist and rolled on top of him, holding himself up one-armed while his free hand nimbly unfastened his jeans and yanked them down alongside his pants, his newly miracled cock already heavy and swollen with arousal. **[8]** Aziraphale's hands were shaking almost too hard to unfasten his own trousers so Crowley helped him, the both of them breaking apart and resting their foreheads together if only to properly see what they were doing. Crowley caught the thick swallow in Aziraphale's throat when he caught sight of Crowley's cock, saw the  _hunger_ in his angel's eyes, and holy  _fuck_ Crowley had never been so horny in all his life.

Together, they got Aziraphale's trousers off. Crowley tossed them across the room with more force than was probably needed, pressing his hand over Aziraphale's chest to hold him down while he gave him a long, thorough look-over. Aziraphale flushed under his gaze, mouth open and softly panting, eyes darting away awkwardly as Crowley's blazing eyes unashamedly raked over his naked body.

"Crowley-"

" _Shh_ , angel," Crowley murmured, running his hand over Aziraphale's chest, his stomach, stopping just short of his chosen genitalia. "I've waited a few thousand years to see this. Gotta savor it."

Aziraphale let loose a small, fluttery laugh. "Surely I'm not  _that_ interesting to look at."

"Sometimes I'm shocked at just how wrong you can be about things," Crowley said, but his voice was reverent. He leaned over his angel and lay kisses to his collarbone and down, down to his chest, lips grazing over Aziraphale's nipples. Aziraphale gasped and his body gave a little jerk, his hands coming up to grab at Crowley's hair again. Crowley's hand snaked down to Aziraphale's pink opening, pressing one suddenly lubricated finger inside. His finger slid in easily; Aziraphale was already wet. Crowley's mind spun a little bit from the prospect. Aziraphale produced a long, heated moan that sounded like Heaven itself, his body instinctively tightening around Crowley's finger. Crowley pulled himself together and grinned against the angel's skin, sliding another finger inside that warm, welcoming space. He curled his fingers gently against the walls of Aziraphale's hot channel.

"A pussy, huh?"

"It felt right, at least for the moment," Aziraphale answered, the words coming out between gasps and little moans as Crowley pumped his fingers in long, experimental strokes. "Does it -  _aah_ \- bother you?"

"Course not," Crowley said firmly. "It's you."

Aziraphale's cheeks flushed deep pink and his lips parted to, quite possibly, prepare something sentimental to say, but Crowley pushed in a third finger and gently rubbed his thumb against Aziraphale's clit and the angel's eyes flew open, whatever words he'd been planning dissolving into a string of breathy moans. He clung to Crowley's upper arms, his legs starting to tremble.

"F-for goodness sake, Crowley, haven't we waited long enough?" Aziraphale moaned impatiently. He gave a gentle thrust of his hips, driving Crowley's fingers knuckle-deep into his wet heat. They gasped in unison. "Just  _fuck_ me already, dear boy."

Crowley absolutely couldn't argue with that. If it weren't for the fact that his sexuality wasn't wired into his biology, Crowley would have already blown a load - or six - by now. Just hearing that marvelous f-word pass Aziraphale's lips was enough to do the job, honestly, but Crowley had been waiting for the better part of 6000 years for this, and he was sure as Hell gonna do it  _right_.

They were kissing again, hot and frantic, bodies pressed so tightly together it felt like they were in danger of merging. Crowley pulled his fingers out of Aziraphale, savoring the whimper that followed. He pushed the head of his leaking cock up against the angel's wet entrance.

"How do you want me?" Crowley asked between kisses, sliding his cock along the folds of Aziraphale's pussy in teasing, slow strokes. As for an answer, Aziraphale flipped them over and climbed on top of Crowley, throwing a leg over Crowley's hips and positioning himself over Crowley's cock. Crowley's eyes blew open and he exhaled a shaky breath. "Oh,  _hell_ yes."

Aziraphale didn't seem to be listening; his pale skin was flushed pink and his eyes were bleary and unfocused, his chest rising and falling with harsh, desperate breaths. He grabbed Crowley's cock gently in his hand and guided himself onto it, carefully lowering onto the demon's engorged cock with a long, broken sigh. Crowley hissed through his teeth and grabbed Aziraphale's thighs so hard he might've left bruises were either of them vulnerable to such things, utterly consumed by the sensation of Aziraphale's tight, wet warmth enveloping his cock until Aziraphale had taken every inch, fully seated in Crowley's lap, his body quaking in pleasure.

"My dear… You feel so incredible, and I feel so…  _full…_ "

"Should I move?" Crowley asked in a tight voice, amazed that he still had the mental capacity to ask permission.

"N-not yet," Aziraphale gasped, rolling his shoulders to anchor his hands on Crowley's bent knees. "Just, ah, give me a moment."

Never had anything felt so pleasurable yet so torturous. For millennia Crowley had longed to know what it felt like to experience carnal pleasures with Aziraphale, had idly fantasized about fucking Aziraphale just like this. It was everything he dreamed of and more. Keeping his hips still while he was balls deep in Aziraphale's body was the biggest challenge of his life, he was certain, but it felt so  _good_ , so absolutely amazing to feel his cock buried in this heavenly heat, feeling Aziraphale gently pulsing and twitching around him.

"You feel so incredible, angel," Crowley said, his voice husky. "So fucking good. They got it wrong, when they said sex was a sin. This is nothing but Heaven."

"R-really, Crowley," Aziraphale chided fondly, lifting his hips up a few inches and rocking back down on Crowley's cock. Crowley's head fell back on the pillows, a moan caught in his throat, fingernails digging into Aziraphale's thighs. Aziraphale whimpered, trying out the motion again, faster this time, more sure of himself, and before either of them had truly found their bearings Aziraphale was fucking himself on Crowley's cock, riding him fast and hard. Crowley's hands relocated to Aziraphale's hips, holding him tight, groaning behind gritted teeth.

Aziraphale was a sight to behold, bouncing on Crowley's cock. A beautiful angelic mess, lost in newfound pleasure, babbling praise and fond words such as "o-oh my dear, that's it,  _aah_ , yes,  _yes_ ,  _yessss_ ," and by the grace of Satan himself Crowley kept his hips still, just hanging onto Aziraphale for dear life as the angel fucked himself into complete incoherence.

"Angel," Crowley grunted, watching the vague acknowledgement that passed through Aziraphale's eyes at the nickname, "let me move. Please, I want- fuck, I  _need_ -"

"Yes," Aziraphale gasped, nodding insistently. It almost looked like he could cry. "Y-yes, please."

With a growl Crowley sat up, wrapping Aziraphale up in his arms. He thrust his hips up, plunging deep into his angel, hearing the pleasured cry that followed next to his ear as Aziraphale clung to him, his legs instinctively wrapping around Crowley's wildly rutting hips. Crowley buried his face in the bend of Aziraphale's neck, pounding his pussy unforgivingly, chanting his name like an unholy prayer.

It wasn't enough, it could never be enough. It felt so entirely new and incredible but familiar all the same, like he and Aziraphale were meant to exist like this. Perhaps they'd been like this, once, before the Beginning, tangled together when they were nothing but a thought, a cosmic Maybe. Crowley's brain was in no fit shape to contemplate such things, however, so instead he grabbed Aziraphale's hips and flipped the angel onto his back, climbing on top of him to mount him properly. Aziraphale - he looked  _dazed_ and  _thrilled_ and Crowley's heart could have exploded at the sight of him, were that possible - reached out for him, winding his arms around Crowley's neck as the demon plunged his cock deep inside Aziraphale's wet heat, fucking him into the mattress with feverish purpose. Aziraphale's head fell back and he cried out, his musical moans chasing each powerful snap of Crowley's hips.

"M-my dear, d-darling,  _aaah_ ,  _haah_ , so good! So- good,  _ah_ …  _Crowley_! I -  _aah_ \- I love you--!"

For humans, experiencing a simultaneous orgasm is a rarely occurring event. For Crowley and Aziraphale, however, the opposite was true for two reasons; one, they are not human, and their orgasms are more-or-less linked to their emotions, not their shiny new sex parts. Two, and perhaps more importantly, they had known one another for 6000 years, and 6000 years of friendship tended to encourage a deep emotional bond that neither Heaven or Hell could hope to understand. It was an unexpected side-effect, yes, but not unpleasant in the slightest.

Crowley came with a groan and a hiss, slamming his cock deep inside Aziraphale the moment Aziraphale's pussy seized his shaft in climax. On another layer of reality, the one nearest to our own, a pair of white wings and a pair of black wings burst out of their respective backs, fluttering in ecstasy.

For a time they just held each other, panting and shaking, trying to comprehend what they'd just experienced. Aziraphale was the first to speak.

"That... My dear, that was..."

"Please," Crowley muttered against Aziraphale's shoulder, "don't say tickety-boo."

"I was going to say divine."

"Careful, angel. You're already walking a pretty blasphemous line as it is."

Aziraphale pressed a shaky kiss to Crowley's jaw. "I already told you, I'm not worried about that anymore. All I need is you."

Crowley pulled away just enough to stare Aziraphale in the eye and run a hand through his fluffy blond hair. "You've got me, then." he professed gently. "You've got me."

Aziraphale smiled, the kind of smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and pressed his lips together tight. He rested their foreheads together, breathing a calming sigh through his lips. "I can't believe it took us 6000 years to do that," he chuckled. Crowley clicked his tongue, and Aziraphale lowered his eyes. "Fine… 6000 years for me to finally come around. To listen."

"It was worth the wait. In every way." Crowley purred.

"Was it really?"

"Well, guess I dunno. Not done yet."

Aziraphale's eyes widened in surprise. "No?"

"No, angel," Crowley grinned, snake-like, tilting the angel's chin up to kiss and lick his throat. Aziraphale shivered in delight. "You might need to close up shop for a couple of days."

.

.

.

Several days later, Aziraphale lay on his new(ish) bed in his new(ish) bedroom, tucked under Crowley's arm, who was  _also_  laying on his new(ish) bed in his new(ish) bedroom. He had never, in all his 6000 years of life, gone so long without wearing clothing, but he and Crowley had lots of time to make up for and clothes certainly got in the way of that. For the moment, however, he was quite inarguably exhausted, and the demon beside him was even more so. How ironic it was that Aziraphale had never once needed or wanted sleep and therefore had no need for a bedroom, but here he was, quite possibly about to take his first nap in his first proper bedroom, **[9]** and all because he'd been too oblivious to realize that Crowley hadn't actually wanted a nap in the first place.

Crowley pulled Aziraphale in a little closer, kissing the crown of his head. Aziraphale lay his arm over Crowley's chest, sighing contentedly against his demon's warm skin. When Crowley spoke, his voice was gravelly and heavy with exhaustion.

"So. New bedroom, huh?"

"Very new, yes." Days old, now, but neither of them had stopped long enough to actually look at anything beyond the bed.

"S'nice."

"Thank you. Though I do believe it could do with a bit more decorating."

Crowley hummed in agreement. "Could use a few plants. A window, maybe."

"I'm no good with plants. Perhaps… perhaps you could bring some over, show me how to properly look after them."

They both knew Aziraphale could  _absolutely_ look after plants, of any variety and without any trouble, but they both also knew that 'saying what you mean' was a tedious habit that required considerable practice. They had time for that, though, so for the time being, they were content to imply and infer. After all, they'd gotten this far.

Crowley kissed Aziraphale again, nuzzled his nose into his soft curls. "Sure, angel. I could do that."

 

 

 

 

 **[1]** But it hadn't, thank goodness, if only because Heaven currently had better things to do in the wake of the Armageddon That Never Happened than check on the Angel Who Could Survive Hellfire.

 **[2]** Literally and figuratively. There was no need to snap fingers to issue a miracle, minor or major, but both Aziraphale and Crowley had been Residents of Earth for so long now that they often paired physical accompaniment to that which is not physical in the slightest. Crowley did it for style, but Aziraphale often did it because he'd just lived among humans long enough to adapt their mannerisms.

 **[3]** He technically always had a bedroom. When he'd acquired the bookshop, the lease specifically stated 'second floor loft-style bedroom' in the description of the property, but a bedroom wasn't really a bedroom without at  _least_ a bed, and Aziraphale did not have one of those. Just loads of boxes and layers upon layers of dust.

 **[4]** It wasn't a little bit. It was a lot. It was a Very Large Amount.

 **[5]** He had.

 **[6]** And if you really think about it, it  _is_ hard to believe that two beings of cosmic origin could be so utterly oblivious for so incredibly long, but that's then and this is now and now, really, is all that matters.

 **[7]** This was untrue, of course. Crowley was nothing if not doting. Even if he was completely consumed with demonic desire, more animal than man, at the slightest bat of Aziraphale's eyelashes or the smallest indication of his discomfort it was an undeniable fact that Crowley would stop the universe and everything in it just to ask the angel if he was alright, and could I get you anything, anything at all, just name it.

 **[8]** Changing an aspect of one's anatomy didn't really count as a miracle. Angels and demons have nearly limitless freedom over their own form, if only because the ability to change appearance on a whim was rather useful when spending any amount of time on the mortal plane. Regardless of this fact, Crowley and Aziraphale both rather liked their originally assigned bodies and haven't ever thought to modify them in any dramatic way.

 **[9]** Several long, wondrous days of sex apparently had that effect. Who knew?

**Author's Note:**

> hi I'm in this ship really deep, someone help
> 
> After writing this I actually got some ideas for possible sequels, which I may or may not start writing _in abundance_ depending on how well this one is received, so please let me know if you enjoyed it! (or else, you know, I won't know if ya'll want more)
> 
> I'm ostrich-cakes on tumblr, stop by and say hello!


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